Luck
by SomeDeadMan
Summary: Everyone's luck runs out eventually. A darker take on the ending.


A/N: It's a bitch to write when your E key is stuck half the time. I think I got them all, but sorry if I missed a few. As always, I would love any criticism you have on the story.

* * *

><p>Have to find her...<p>

I have to find her.

Those bastards took her, gonna cut her up?

Screw that.

First, I guess I have to get this asshole off of my back.

"What the fuck are you doing? I said keep walking."

I wait. I have to time this right, make sure I don't get a bullet in the gut. As soon as I feel him tense, I snap into action, deflecting the gun, it's deadly payload missing me by inches. Not missing a beat, I twist around him, slam his head into the wall, and grab the gun from his hands, likely breaking a few of his fingers in the process. I wasn't finished with him yet, however. Pistol whipping him not once, but twice, I settle the barrel of the gun right above his groin.

"Where is the operating room?"

The man gives me a blank stare, in shock maybe, or perhaps disbelieving of how I overpowered him so easily.

"I ain't got time for this."

I fire the gun, and he jerks, his face twisting in agony.

"Where?"

I fire again, out of anger, out of frustration, out of hate for this man who would stand by so callously as my little girl was killed.

"Where?"

"Top floor. The far end." He croaks out, blood and spittle alike running down his face .

I let him go, and as he falls to his knees, his eyes wide, I raise the pistol, and put a bullet to him.

* * *

><p>Even as he fell to the floor, I heard shouting. Shoving the gun into my waistband, I grabbed Ellie's pack and I ran.<p>

Taking cover near a pillar, I drew my revolver. I could hear them, running towards me, towards the body I'd left in my wake. I ducked down, hiding behind a counter as I planned my next move. I could hear at least five, maybe more. I couldn't take them all alone, and I wouldn't want to, besides. Every minute I waste here is a minute Ellie could be getting lobotomized. So, I carefully make my way to where I hope the stairs are.

I duck out of cover to take a glance behind me, a move which nearly gets me killed. As I look, I see a man looking straight at me.

"Guys, I see him! He's over-"

Sprinting out of cover, I tackle the man, socking him in the jaw to shut him up. It works, and has the benefit of stunning him, allowing me to wrench my gun under his jaw and pull the trigger.

Shit. If they hadn't heard the man yell, they would've definitely heard the gunshot. I sprint to the stairs, and just as the cries of alarm and the gunshots begin, I'm already halfway in the door. Hurrying, I lift a nearby chair and jam the door with it. Try and follow me now. Turning around, I climb the stairs as quickly as I can, my side still sore from being impaled months ago.

Almost immediately after closing the door behind me, I feel a very familiar presence around my throat. An arm, to be more precise. It tightened, and the edges of my vision began to blur. The man strangling me didn't have much leverage, so he couldn't snap my neck, but he could choke me out, given enough time. I tried to pry his arm away, not accomplishing much but letting me draw breath. Ramming my head back into his, I heard a loud crunch and felt wetness along the back of my neck. He released his grip, and I wasted no time in turning the tables, pouncing on him and raining blow after blow on his prone form until he no longer moved.

With a grunt, I stood up. I could hear the shouts, the footsteps of guards running towards me, moving in for the kill. I had to hide. I saw a door, tried the knob. Locked. With time running short, I brought up my makeshift knife, one half of a pair of surgical scissors, and pried it into the lock.

Thankfully, it seems the lock was cheaply made, and all it took was me forcing the tumblers out, destroying the lock, and ruining the shiv, in the process. Without a second to spare, I quietly stepped inside the door, and closed it as far as I could without making noise.

I could hear them congregate around the body of the guard, not bothering to lower their voices.

"Holy shit, he killed Ethan."

"How'd he get up here, anyway? The stairwell was guarded."

"I dunno, must have snuck past the guards downstairs...or killed them."

"Alright, cut the chatter! Keep your eyes open, he could be anywhere."

I heard the guards fan out, looking for me. With a start, I realized that one of them was bound to come in here if the door was locked, and looked around for a hiding spot. Finally, I settled on an overturned cardboard box, just big enough to fit me. I scrambled under it, and not a moment too soon, because as soon as the box settled to the ground with me under it, I heard the door rattle as it opened.

"Huh, nothing in here but boxes. Could have sworn I heard something."

Yeah, you did, it was me. Hurry up and leave, buddy.

I heard the guard rummaging through his pockets, and the flick of a lighter.

Oh, come the FUCK on.

* * *

><p>After what seemed an eternity, the guard left.<p>

I heard the door close, and the guard walk away, but I still waited for a minute to be sure.

Creeping out of the room, I made my way to an old couch and peered down towards the stairwell to the third floor, finding two guards... well, guarding it.

Carefully, I lined up the sights to my rifle on the closest one's head, and I gently depressed the trigger. Abbott went down in a spray of gore, leaving Costello to duck down and start returning fire. I cocked the bolt, and tried to line up the sights again, but just as I was about to fire, a bullet from Costello punched through the aged upholstery, burrowing itself deep in my leg.

I screamed. I screamed long, and hard, a high, yelping, pain filled bellow brought to light from my current agony. I tried to put pressure on the wound, blood spurting out from between my fingers as I clutched the hole. The only good thing about it was the fact that my shrieks must have convinced Costello that I was no longer a threat, and when he came to finish me off, I retained just enough presence of mind to draw my revolver and take him out.

Not wanting to waste any more time than I already had, I limped my way over to the stairwell and promptly barricaded it, tipping over a shelf to block the way as I bandaged the wound. I didn't have enough time to stitch it, and a tourniquet would only slow me down, so I hastily wrapped it up and continued on. God, it hurt like a bitch, and if I thought that stairs were a pain in the ass before...

* * *

><p>Finally. Third floor. Limping my way to the door, I open it, slowly, peering out of the small gap. No one in sight. Silently, I make my way over the threshold, and close the door shut behind me. Limping, I see a door. Above it, I can make out the word Clinic, crudely scrawled in marker. I walk over to it, and open the door...<p>

...only to be met with gunfire. And pain, a lot of that too. Practically leaping back, I slam the door shut, even as blood blossomed on my shirt. I collapse against the wall, but retain enough lucidity to raise my gun, aiming it at the room I just vacated.

"Jones, go check it out."

"Me? Why?"

"Because you're the new guy, that's why."

"Fuck you!"

"Look, he's one guy. What could he possibly do to you?"

"Shoot me? Let's not forget he made it up here, past the others!"

"Fine, fine, I'll come with you, now quit your bitching."

Shit. I gotta move, and fast. I inch along the ground, every movement causing me agony. Finally, I reach a small alcove, where I hide.

The door opens. I hear footsteps, making their way towards me. There are two of them, but they don't know where I am. I look out of my erstwhile hiding spot, and see the both of them searching the hall, facing away from me. Stupid. I level my rifle, taking aim at the the one in the balaclava, then shifting it over to the bald one. I do it again, and again, until I'm certain I can bring the rifle around fast enough. From there, I take the shot.

The bullet was a little off center, ripping through the left side of his brain, and burying itself in the wall behind him. His buddy swings around, bringing his pistol to bear, but by the time he has it aimed, I've already fired, putting another bullet in his right eye. I can hear the shouts of alarm coming from the room, and I know that any moment now they'll send more men bursting through that door, so I throw an improvised nail bomb right by it. Readying a Molotov, I crawl back in the corner and wait. The nail bomb is filled with gunpowder and other explosive shit I don't even have a name for, so I'm hoping the Molotov will set it off. My timing has to be perfect. I hear the door slam open, hear the gasps as the first man through undoubtedly sees the corpses of his comrades, and I wait. One second, two, just long enough so everyone is through the door. Then, I throw the Molotov. The screams tell me my aim was true, and the muffled explosion a second later ensures I was right about the gunpowder. Try as I might, it's hard to feel much sympathy. I feel some, but just thinking about what they were gonna do to Ellie drowns it, replaces it with fury. I try and get up, try being the operative word. A second attempt proves much more fruitful. I look back to where I was lying and immediately see the problem. A pool of blood, a very large one, at that. Already, I'm starting to feel lightheaded. Drowsiness and fainting will come next. Thinking quickly, I take out a syringe of adrenaline I'd saved for this purpose, and jab it into my hip, depressing the plunger. Almost immediately, I feel the effect. I'm no longer lightheaded, but my hands are shaking. I take out a bandage, and wrap it around me, making sure to wrap it as tight as I can. Bandages fix everything.

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><p>...No, no, they really don't. I'm dying. The bandage and the adrenaline has bought me a couple of minutes, at most. Alright, time to hurry. Throwing the door open, I can see that there is nobody else in the room. Good thing, too, because I doubt I can aim very well with my hands shaking this much. Practically sprinting down the corridor, I finally see a room with a light on. About god damn time. Thankfully, it's unlocked, and I barge inside of the room, taking the doctors in there by surprise. The doctor turns to face me, already shouting something I can't quite make out. Is that a scalpel he's reaching for? Doesn't matter. I slug him in the jaw, as hard as I can, knocking him out cold. My way clear, I finally see her. The reason I fought, the reason I bled, the reason I'm dying. I pick her up as gingerly as I can, and I run. I run past the cowering nurse, I run out the door, and I run past a group of very surprised Fireflies. I hear a shout behind me, and gunshots soon follow. I feel something hit me in the back, and I stumble, just managing to regain my balance. I can barely feel anything anymore. My legs are numb, but they keep moving of their own accord. It's as if my body knows that I'm gonna die, so it gives it's all just to spite death. Am I over-analyzing this? Maybe. Not like it really matters. As long as I can get Ellie to safety, I can die in a ditch for all I care. Actually, that's probably what's gonna happen anyway. Finally, after what feels like hours, I reach the elevator. I enter, and I slam my hand on the button to close the doors. As they close, I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm not out of the woods yet, but at least those assholes are off my tail. I press the button for the lowest level, and I wait.<p>

* * *

><p>As the doors open, I see a familiar face. Marlene. At the very least, It looks like she's as surprised to see me as I am to see her.<p>

Unfortunately, I'm using both my hands to hold the unconscious form of Ellie, and as she draws her pistol, I can't draw mine.

"You can't save her."

"Even if you get her out of here, then what? How long before she's torn to pieces by a pack of clickers? That is if she hasn't been raped and murdered first."

I am quickly reaching my limit for bullshit today.

"That ain't for you to decide."

"It's what she'd want. And you know it."

"Look...You can still do the right thing here. She won't feel anything."

Fuck this. Fuck her. I rip my own pistol out of it's holster, and with her arms spread open, she doesn't have enough time to bring hers around.

She falls to the ground. I doubt she's dead; I'd aimed for her head, but my hands were shaking, and the bullet landed somewhere in her gut.

Without missing a beat, I make my way to the car, open the backdoor, and lower Ellie into it. Then, I turn my attention back to the prone form that is Marlene.

My hands aren't shaking anymore. Strange.

"Wait!"

I wait for her to speak, more out of curiosity as to what she'll have to say than out of any desire to let her live. Not after what she tried to do.

"Let me go. Please."

"You'd just come after her."

...

...

Well, Ellie's awake. Good. Frankly, I'm on my last legs. The adrenaline has long since worn off, and all that's left is pain. I hear her speaking, but it seems far away, and I can't quite make out what she's saying.

"Listen, baby girl. I'm dying. There's a map to Tommy's place in the glove compartment. Drive until you run out of fuel, then walk the rest of the way. Shouldn't be too long, there's a full tank. Be careful, Ellie."

I can barely hear my own voice anymore, let alone Ellie's. I feel so tired. Tired of...what? I can barely remember where I am. I should probably stop the...thing. Car. Stop the car. I move slowly, as if I'm underwater. My hand makes it's way to the gear control, and shifts it into park. With that done, finally done, I let myself die.

...

...

...


End file.
